Hogwarts
by Spark Writer
Summary: Its presence will never be forgotten...


**Hello! I had the sudden urge to craft a story about the greatest unsung character of all-Hogwarts! Written from this wizarding school's point of view, this fic reveals the soul within the walls of Hogwarts. Read and enjoy!**

**~Hogwarts will always give help to those who ask for it...  
**

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Hogwarts had seen a great deal of things in the long years since it had been built. It had watched the land evolve into rolling hills, and crouched under misty downpours that eventually created the Black Lake. It had seen the ragged outlines of growing cities and narrowly avoided discovery by strange muggles. It had watched young children in over-sized robes tumble in, and powerful wizards stride out. Hogwarts was the silent guardian that creaked with laughter when a Gryffindor trumped a Slytherin (It _was _a bit biased) and despaired during dark times.

Hogwarts had been a sheltered, secure establishment as long as time, but had itched with anxiety when its students began to whisper in low, urgent tones; they seemed to convey an underlying sense of fear. A pale boy with vacant, dark eyes had often strode down Hogwarts's lengthy corridors, entirely alone. And he would lay his thin fingers upon the stone walls as if he owned the place. This irritated Hogwarts, who was not at all impressed with the boy's quiet sense of entitlement. It noticed the sudden shadow that plunged the wizarding world into gloom. It longed for old times; when young wizards occupied themselves by casting hexes at fellow students, not plotting and scheming.

Hogwarts was forgiving and always gave help to those who asked for it—and was forced to give help to those who exposed its secrets. It felt a twinge of relief when the strange, suggestive boy departed forever, though not without leaving behind a stain of fear. For a while, things were quiet, and Hogwarts became complacent. It slept a good deal, and rested and dreamed, waking only when a pale, skinny boy entered its doors—his likeness to the first strange boy was disturbing—and glanced up at the soaring ceilings above him with an expression of awe. Hogwarts had been quite taken aback. It had never seen such a scar, one identical to the lightening that sometimes lit the night sky. It remained silent (How could it do otherwise?) but became a gentle protector, and did its best to keep the boy and his unusual friends out of harm's way.

It winced when the children discovered the lethal three-headed dog, flinched when the boy stabbed the enormous basilisk, shivered as Dementors breathed down its spine and gasped as dragons soared above the Quidditch pitch. A while after that, it seemed that every student wished to enter its hidden Room of Requirement. They twisted their words into a million formations, though rarely gaining entrance. All around, the darkness with growing thicker, the fear sharper. Hogwarts observed the bothersome Death Eaters with disdain, and felt deep sorrow when the benignant Headmaster plummeted from its soaring astronomy tower. To Hogwarts, it seemed that everything pure and good in the world was being cast away, and terror reigned.

One night, an awful and frenzied battle was fought—the boy with the scar on one end, and a horrifying wizard on the other; one so powerful he could not quite be called human. Great gashes were cut in Hogwart's sturdy walls, it groaned as its skeleton became feeble, and its corridors were speckled with scarlet drops of blood. Hope was merely a concept.

It allowed its walls to crash and fall away, no longer a safeguard for the valiant fighters. No one mourned the near-death of their school. They never once imagined the beautiful soul within the stone walls. Hogwarts had not survived so long for nothing, however. It wouldn't allow itself to do anything other than live, and did exactly that. It stooped hopefully over the thin boy and the livid dark wizard, holding its breath…

With the first blinding ray of sunlight, the boy defeated the wizard, and justice prevailed. Hogwarts smiled upon the exuberant throngs below, and—for it _was _terribly drowsy—closed its weary eyes…and slept.

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**I won't even ask...**

**-Spark Writer-  
**


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